


Ho’ola (to give life, to heal)

by aries_taurus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s05e07 Ina Paha (If Perhaps), Friendship, Gen, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4340789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wednesday night comes faster than he’s ready for. He’s not ready for this. It’s too soon and too fast. He’s not ready to talk about it. Not yet. It still hurts too much; it’s too raw, too deep, too fresh. Too… everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ho’ola (to give life, to heal)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all,
> 
> No, I am not in fact dead.
> 
> This is a tag to 5.07 (yes, my 4th one) and it's based on a deleted scene from 4.15 that shows Steve going to a group therapy session for PTSD. So please, let me know how I did.
> 
> I originally wrote this for the 1_million_words bingo on LJ but failed to complete it in time... It was for the mind control recovery square. The other 4 fics for my bingo are in the works, plus a *gasp* pwp pure porn thing. 
> 
> Maybe I can get a couple finished soon...
> 
> Read and please review, let me know how I did.
> 
> Oh, no beta, so goofs are mine.

Ho’ola (to give life, to heal)

 

* * *

 

 

Wednesday night comes faster than he’s ready for. He’s _not_ ready for this. It’s too soon and too fast. He’s not ready to talk about it. Not yet. It still hurts too much; it’s too raw, too deep, too fresh. Too… everything.

He calls Danny and asks for a lift anyway. He can’t drive yet; pneumonia from the waterboarding means endless coughing and the cough coupled with the bullet-grazing-his skull-induced concussion he’s still recovering from means pounding headaches, dizziness and nausea. His reflexes and emotions are still off too, from the drugs. Ergo, (again) no driving.

He asks Danny to drop him at the community center and of course, Danny asks why. He shakes his head, tells Danny just to get him there. Danny, who for once, looks at him, doesn’t say a word and gets him there.

Of course, it’s there that it all goes to hell because of _course_ Danny won’t just drop him off and pick him up in a couple hours like he asks.

“If you’d wanted to keep this… whatever you came here for a secret, you d’ have called a cab. You called _me_.”

Okay. He can’t really argue that point other than maybe blaming the concussion for fucking him up more than he’d thought. Still, this is already hard enough, so he chooses to let this battle go, for once, choosing capitulation. He doesn’t have the energy to argue today, especially not with what’s coming.

“Fine. Follow me and shut up,” he says, maybe a little snappishly.

He must show something on his face too because Danny does just that; he follows and sits where Steve points, in the hall, a couple doors down. Of course, Danny’s seen the poster in the lobby.

“Real Warriors, group for grief and … PTSD?” Danny says, his voice low, thin, surprised, because of course he can’t shut up like asked.

Steve stops, closing his eyes and dropping his chin to his chest. He heaves a quick, harsh sigh, the headache making his temper flare hot and bright. “Yeah. You wanna sit in? Fine. You want to come back when it’s done, fine. I don’t need your attitude, Danny.”

“No, no. I uh…”

Danny doesn’t get to say more because Mark, the group leader, shows up and greets Steve from behind.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Mark,” Steve answers, turning and yeah, he gets the reaction he was expecting; concern, surprise, shock.

“Whoa. What the hell, man? You sure you should be here?”

“I need to be here,” he says quietly. “But I’m all right. Banged up but all right.” Physically, at least; he doesn’t say.

“Okay. C’mon in then. Your friend coming too?”

“Danny, meet Mark. Mark, this is Danny. A friend... My partner, actually.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mark greets, extending a hand. “You can sit in, if you want.”

Danny sits in.

By the door, but he sits in. He’s quiet, even when Steve tells his latest tale of torture, even when he talks about killing his nemesis, even when he talks about how the grief of losing his father’s come back to haunt him, how he’s not sleeping, how he doesn’t like anything wet or heavy on his face and how he hates all those things he feels, hates that this has again changed him, about how he feels broken.

He’s maybe crying when he’s done and he’s missed Danny moving closer and putting a hand on his shoulder in support.

He’s surprised when Danny is the one to speak up when Mark asks if anyone else wants to say something.

He listens to Danny talk about his brother and he figures that yeah, maybe there was a reason he didn’t call a cab and called Danny instead.

Maybe it was because they both needed to be here.

To maybe heal, just a little bit.

 

Fin.


End file.
